


The Nordic Council

by SilenceoftheLlamas



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Drinking, Emil don goofed, Eventual Relationships, Implied Kidnapping, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, some fucked up shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 13:58:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10572723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilenceoftheLlamas/pseuds/SilenceoftheLlamas
Summary: The Nordic Council; An esteemed and highly sought after elite, yet incredibly secretive society where reputations can be made or broken over the course of a single night.Riot Club AU





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a ~lot~ of this while waiting for various medications to kick in while I was sick – so if some seems weird or strange, that is why. I’m too lazy to go through and fix that now, but maybe one day I’ll have the courage.  
> If anyone’s not aware about the whole Riot Club thing, it’s a movie that’s basically heavily referencing the Bullingdon Club at Oxford university. They’re renown for being super destructive, and the initiations are questionable. I’m not sure if anyone outside the UK would have seen the controversy over it, but one of our previous Prime Ministers was involved in that club and fucked a dead pig as part of his initiation. We had a wild time with that, but… yanno… It’s an exclusively male club and they’re pretty abhorrent with their activities. Part of their initiations did involve some of the things I’ve mentioned here – but they’re pretty tight lipped about it so I’ve also made some stuff up. Wouldn’t put it past them, though.
> 
> Definitely heed the tags/warnings. They're subject to change, so keep an eye on 'em. If you can think of any other tags/warnings please let me know! My sense of how much is too much is really warped...

A tall blonde man sat in a large leather chair, a large roaring fire in front of him. The room was dark, and he was leant forwards, elbows braced on his knees as his hands clasped together in front of him.

“You are worried.” A woman said, slipping onto the armrest next to him and placing her hand on his upper back. The diamond-encrusted ring on her finger sparkled in the firelight. She tucked her loosely curled hair behind her ear and placed her hands on top of his. “Tell me.”

“It is nothing.” He replied, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to her fingers one by one. “Nothing of importance.”

“You are thinking about who will inherit the council after you, aren’t you?” She asked, kneeling in front of him so he was forced to look at her. “Don’t fret.” Her hands found his hair, tucking a stray strand behind his ear. “Andersen is competent enough.”

“He is far too soft.” He frowned. “This council does not make room for the meek.”

“That much he is aware of.” She replied, eyes pointedly looking at the bloodied handkerchiefs laying abandoned on the table to their left. “He is concerned about his future. As you should be, too.”

He found himself looking at the diamond ring on her finger. “I am.” He replied, pulling her to his feet. He patted his lap, and she gracefully sat, her legs pressed against the armrest. It was not ladylike to sling them over, so she did not. “I am very concerned.” He rubbed at her elbow, brushing the fabric that stopped just short of it.

“Why not appoint your brother? He is starting here when you leave. The council can remain in Västerström hands.”

“My brother is too soft, and has little regard for leadership.” He scrunched his face up, a look that aged him greatly. “He’ll spend more time chasing girls than focusing on the council.”

“Like you, then?” She teased, poking his chest. She allowed herself a laugh before kissing his cheek, her red lipstick miraculously not leaving a mark.

“You tease.” He fondly replied, tilting her chin up so he could kiss her proper. The worry seemed to drain from him, although the tension was still taut in his shoulders.

This would not do, she decided.

“Come on,” She hopped up to her feet. She held her hands out to him. “I’m bored, and I’m very sure the others will throw a fit if they find that you’ve let me in here again.”

“They can’t say a thing, Helga.” He replied, standing and taking her hands, pulling her towards him. “I’m their leader.”

“True as that may be,” She laughed, leaning up on her tip toes to brush noses with him, “I don’t think they’ll let it slide this time, Torolf.”

The truth. He stepped away, holding her hand firmly in his own, his thumb brushing against the ring. “Lead the way, darling.”

* * *

 

Many years later found them bearing a son. His name was Emil, and he was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Helga did not fare so well. It had been difficult on her, almost too much, and after his birth she had been unable to bear another. They did not mind as much as many thought that they should – one was enough, one was perfect.

Torolf knew exactly what he wanted to do with him, exactly the kind of person he wanted to mould him into.

Emil would be a member of the Nordic Council, even if it broke him getting there.

He was tutored to within an inch of his life, his rare free days spent entirely with the aristocratic community composed of his friends and fellow council members. The Hotakainen family, the Eide family, and the Madsen family were his peers. He would not be going near any of the common folk – they’d brush off their petty ideals on him, and make him turn down a dark path. No Västerström would walk that path – they were rich; they were _gods_ in this world.

When Emil was old enough, he pushed him into the boxing ring. He would be tough; he would stand his ground viciously and bow down to no one.

It was the proudest day of his life when Emil was accepted into the same university he went to, that his grandfather went to, that his brother went to. The days when he earned his medals in boxing paled in comparison. This, this was what he was proud of.

Emil was following in his footsteps.

* * *

 

Emil supposed his dorm room was okay.

It was a double room, split evenly in half. Each side had it down dedicated chest of drawers, bed, desk, wardrobe, and bedside table. Unfortunately they would have to share a bathroom, but Emil could get over that so long as they were clean and didn't help themselves to his things.

His parents had seen him off and were gone before he could properly say goodbye. Trying to not let that snub sting too much, he had taken the last of his belongings into his room (thankfully it was simply his laptop and a few basic essentials) and flopped down onto his bed.

_Ugh_.

He heard a key fumbling in the lock, and he quickly sat up. Oh, shoot! Presentation, Emil, presentation!

He quickly fluffed his hair, smoothing it down and taming it so it looked presentable and brushed down his clothes. He wasn't sure what he could do about his things still scattered about but he supposed that he'd just have to make the best of it.

He was sat casually on the edge of his bed when the door opened, and he felt his heart stop.

Silver hair was the first thing that registered.

It's owner walked straight past Emil, ignoring the hand he had outstretched in greeting as they beelined for the other bed, promptly face planting on it. And then, a few seconds later-

"Oh, goodness, I'm sorry! He's feeling a bit travel sick right now. I'm his cousin Tuuri, his name is- _Emil?!"_

Emil was in the process of trying to figure out just who she was when it suddenly clicked.

"Tuuri?!"

Handshakes were ignored in favour of hugs. "Oh, it's been so long!" Tuuri said as she hugged him tight. "At least six years."

Emil grimaced. "I heard about your parents. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay." Tuuri waved him off. "It was a long time ago."

"Is Lalli going to be okay?" Emil asked, pointing at the boy currently face-down on his bed.

"He's being dramatic." Tuuri sighed. "It'll pass."

Emil hoped it would. He hadn't seen him in so long, after all. He wondered if Lalli still remembered their summers as children spent by the river, catching bugs and fish while making flower crowns for each other.

"Is your brother still around?" Emil asked as they parted. "I recall him being the one to gain custody of you both."

"He's fine." Tuuri nodded. "He would have been here today, too, but he fell out of a tree and broke his leg."

"Tuuri, that is the opposite of fine."

Tuuri waved him off. "He'd be a mess otherwise and try to convince Lalli to stay home." She pouted. "He did the same to me when I started here!"

Emil could definitely see that happening. "I hope he heals well."

"Some of his friends are looking after him." Tuuri replied.

"Still, though. I can remember him being the one to get us down from high places when we were kids, it's weird to hear he's actually fallen."

Tuuri just shrugged. "It happens. Mind giving me a hand with his stuff? I don't think I can carry it all."

Emil was more than happy to. After all, they were old friends.

The whole way down the stairs, the two swapped stories and memories. The time Lalli had gotten stuck down a well. The time Tuuri had gotten lost in the forests that surrounded her family estate while on the hunt for toads. How Onni had been able to find her by near enough panic attacking his way through the trees.

They didn't talk about the fire.

“This is the last of it!” Tuuri cheered as she hefted another box. Emil took the last few – it wasn’t as if they were heavy – and followed her up the stairs with them.

Someone slipped something into his back pocket. Emil twitched, looking this way and that to see who had touched him, but he couldn’t see over the boxes in his arms.

“Tuuri?” He asked, trying desperately to peer through a gap, “Who just walked past us?”

“Oh,” Tuuri sounded somewhat disgusted, “Just some guy.”

They placed the boxes down in the dorm, Tuuri stretching her back with an audible crack. “Oh, gods, that hurt!”

Emil couldn’t help but laugh at her. Tuuri gave him an offended look.

“Don’t you laugh at me. You’re going to be in the same state when you’re in your second year, trust me.”

“I’m sure I will.” Emil didn’t believe her.

Tuuri looked at her watch. “Well, that leaves me with just enough time.” She happily chirped. “I’ve got my lecture soon so I’ve got to go get ready for it, it was super good to see you again though. How about tomorrow after lectures we all go meet up for a coffee?”

“Sounds great.” Emil nodded.

After Tuuri left, Lalli was still face down on his bed. Emil would have thought him dead if it weren’t for the fact he could see his chest moving.

Carefully, he shuffled all of Lalli’s things to his side of the room so he wouldn’t trip on them and began to unpack.

But then he remembered that something was in his back pocket. He put down the books he was holding, arranging them neatly on the shelf above his bed, before fishing out the note.

It felt thick and heavy in his hands, the paper expensive. He carefully opened it, holding his breath. He didn’t know what it could be – he had barely been here for more than a few hours, and already he had suspicious things being shoved into his back pocket!

**_The Nordic Council_ **

Emil held his breath, fingers shaking as he hastily straightened the letter to better read it before his eyes flew along the lines, over and over to commit them to memory. To make sure that he wasn’t dreaming.

_Emil Västerström,_

_The Nordic Council takes great delight in inviting you to join us tomorrow evening in our clubhouse._

_We will welcome you eagerly at 7pm sharp. Bring nothing but yourself and your essentials, and dress sharply._

_We trust the map included within will help you find your way._

_Best wishes,_

_Grimmson._

The end was embellished with a six-pointed snowflake, the symbol Emil had grown to recognise in his childhood.

It was real.

They had already found him.

He had already been recruited.

The blank space at the bottom was filled with a map of what Emil guessed was the ground floor, cut off to the observatory. He had walked past it on his way to his dormitory – if he walked outside and down the hall, he would be looking straight at it.

Tomorrow evening. He could make that. His lectures finished at three – he could have a quick drink with Tuuri before getting ready and heading over. The walk wasn’t even five minutes. He could do that. Yes, yes, he could do that.

Emil glanced at his watch.

Oh, _fuck_.

He had forgotten that he had lectures too. Despite it being his first day there, the university was brutal. No excuses when it came to the finest education the known world had to offer. He left the letter on his bed as he grabbed his laptop bag and coat.

* * *

 

Lalli was awake when he got back. From the way he was shrugging off his own coat, he guessed that he had just been to his own lectures.

“Feeling any better?” Emil prodded. Lalli just glanced at him before nodding.

Hmm. Had he always been this quiet?

Emil supposed that he had.

“Do you remember me?” The words felt heavy on his tongue. God, he hoped Lalli did remember him.

“Emil Västerström.” Lalli smoothly replied. “I remember you.”

“Oh! That’s good.” Emil couldn’t help but grin widely at that. “I helped bring your things up. I’m sorry if I broke anything.”

Lalli shrugged. It didn’t bother him too much.

But that response gave Emil _nothing_ to work with. He hadn’t seen Lalli in _years_ – he’d completely forgotten his habits, his tics, what he liked and disliked. Well, other than shouting, but he doubted that had changed and he wasn’t one to shout much anyway. It was like having to build something from the ground up all over again.

A Västerström was not one to give up easy, however.

“Tuuri’s said that we should all meet up tomorrow after our lectures finish for coffee. Do you have her number?”

Lalli took his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it and handing it to Emil. Emil searched for Tuuri in his contacts, inputting her number into his phone. He could assign a picture to her later. After a moments thought, he added himself to Lalli’s phone.

“I put myself in,” Emil explained as he handed it back. “If we’re roommates it makes it easier if you can get in contact with me.”

“Okay.”

Lalli dropped his phone onto his bed, putting his bag on his desk and throwing his coat over the back of his chair. He briefly stretched before unpacking his laptop, plugging in his headphones, and sitting down with them placed firmly over his ears.

Emil got the message very, very quickly. A Västerström did not give up easily, but a Västerström also knew when to quit.

He simply busied himself with packing away the rest of his belongings. He was a little worried that Lalli wasn’t doing the same – when would he find the time to do it later? – but that was none of his business, he supposed.

He left the letter on his desk as he unpacked his clothes, carefully organising them in the allocated drawers and hanging spaces. The boxes he was done with he stacked on hid bed – he could flatten them later and stash them away ready for when he left, or take them home during the holidays so his parents could be burdened with them – and by the time he needed the lights on in order to see what he was doing he only had his toiletries to unpack.

Lalli finally took off his headphones, cracking his joints as he stood. He picked up the sports bag Emil had placed next to his bed and walked into the bathroom with it, coming out a few moments later dressed in running gear.

“I’ll be back soon.” He simply said as he put the bag back on the floor and left their dorm.

“… Okay, then.”

* * *

 

Lalli took a few moments to just breathe as he stood outside their dorm, leaning against the door with his eyes closed.

He hadn’t seen Emil in nine years. He’d changed so much, but he’d also hardly changed at all. He still had that same sparkle in his eye, the friendly aura about him, that stupid shiny hair. His voice hadn’t changed much either – yes, it was kilometres deeper than it had been when they were ten, but he had the same patterns and accent and the same little tics. Even if no one else noticed them, Lalli did. He always did, even if he didn’t understand them.

A run would clear his head. He was ashamed of how rude he had been, but after a good run he’d come back, and hopefully be less of an asshole. This was _Emil_ , the one who he had caught butterflies with and had inspected fish with, wading in creeks with their trousers rolled up to their knees with fistfuls of flowers in their arms and tucked safely in their hair. The one he had spent countless nights with, sneaking outside to glimpse the stars and the moon until Onni corralled them inside before their parents discovered their empty beds.

He couldn’t be rude to him, not when he’d always been so kind.

The memory of the maps he’d looked at still fresh in his mind, Lalli pushed himself up and began stretching. The park was relatively close by; he’d run there and back for tonight, and go a little further tomorrow. He was reluctant to go too far on his first night.

_I’m just going to the park_ , he texted Emil. He supposed he’d better let him know – and it would lift the ‘I was an asshole’ weight off his back somewhat.

Phone firmly in his pocket, and earphones firmly in his ears, Lalli set off.

The night air was crisp and refreshing, the hustle and the bustle of the city muted against the sound of the trees, the flowers, and the wildlife. He had always had an ear for it, hearing things others didn’t notice. Onni had, too. They both noticed when a tree had become infected in their forest first, they knew when the flowers would be ready to bloom and knew if the soil was ready to support new life.

Tuuri had never really understood.

The park was relatively quiet. There were one or two other joggers, who Lalli had resolutely ignored as he silently forged on. He could feel his pulse in his chest, his breathing even despite his pace.

_Run, Lalli. Run._

He did. He ran, and he ran, and he ran, even though he had nothing to run from.

When he returned to his dorm, he was sweating and panting until his face was red, using the wall for balance as he rummaged in his pocket for his keys. Taking a moment to himself to catch his breath – jesus, he _really_ needed to run more often – he steadied his breathing and desperately tried to cool his face down.

After many, many weird looks, he decided that it was time to unlock the door and take a desperately needed shower.

He stepped into his dorm just as Emil left the bathroom, steam coming out after him like an ominous cloud. There was only a towel protecting his modesty, the rest of him exposed.

Lalli couldn’t look away.

There was a prolonged moment of awkward staring and eye contact before they both quickly looked away from each other, Emil’s wet hair flicking just so and sticking to his face.

“I didn’t hear you come in.” Emil said as he quickly grabbed a second towel, wrapping it around his hair.

Of all things to care about covering, it was his _hair_?!

“Sorry.” Was all Lalli could think to mumble in reply, quickly rushing into the bathroom and locking the door behind him, slowly sliding down it until he was sat on the floor.

Oh, shit.

The years had _definitely_ changed him.

While before Emil had been almost comically pudgy, it had all been trimmed away to reveal solid muscle. He was by no means pure muscle – Lalli had seen the pudge around his middle and he still looked as soft as a teddy – but the change was _definitely_ obvious. Any now that he’d looked properly instead of the brief glance he’d allowed himself earlier and the peeks he took out of the corner of his eye, he’d decided that he was completely and utterly screwed.

Why, you may ask?

The years had treated him well. Very well. Extraordinarily well. Annoyingly well.

He didn’t want to admit it to himself, not at all, but Emil was damn fucking attractive. Even with his stupid hair, which Lalli was silently glad hadn’t changed, he was hot.

Lalli ran a hand down his face and supressed a groan. This year was going to suck, he just knew it. Emil was a Västerström, and the Västerström’s had no time for anyone other than themselves. That was what he’d always been told when he had asked to see Emil after the fire. _They don’t have time for us_ , Taru had said while smoothing his hair back with that weird look on her face. Every time. _They’re very busy people. We don’t want to be a nuisance._

It was only when Onni had turned twenty-one and was finally in control of their assets when he realised that that wasn’t the case at all. No, they simply wanted nothing to do with them anymore.

At the time, it had stung bad enough for him to regress back into his old habits – never speaking, signing what he wanted and only to his cousins, eating an odd diet of bread and whatever happened to strike his fancy that particular day (which wasn’t much at all). But over time the wound had healed, barely leaving a scar.

Seeing Emil again, though, was threatening to tear it back open.

* * *

 

“How are you guys settling in?” Tuuri asked as she nursed her coffee between her hands.

“Pretty well.” Emil proudly replied, his chest almost puffing out in pride. “Everything’s unpacked and away.”

Lalli stared at the foam on the top of his drink.

“What about you, Lalli?” Tuuri prodded.

“I haven’t unpacked yet.”

Tuuri almost slammed her mug on the table. “ _Lalli_!”

“It’s okay, I’ll help him tonight.” Emil replied. “I’ve got a… meeting, but I can help him after that.”

“A meeting?” Tuuri asked, leaning forwards.

“I got a letter from someone in the council. They put it in my pocket while we were on the stairs.”

“This isn’t anything to do with why you asked who’d just walked past us, is it?” Tuuri asked, her face thunderous.

“… It might.”

“Emil, no. I forbid it!”

“I’ve been _raised_ for this.” Emil shot back. “I’m going.”

Lalli was watching the pair like a tennis match, his eyes flicking back and forth.

“Who walked past you?” He asked.

“Just some utter shitbag.” Tuuri said, her face scrunched. “Don’t waste your time with them. Our dad was always saying at how unethical they were, I don’t imagine much has changed.”

“I’ll see.” Emil took a long sip of his coffee. “I’ll go just this once. They’re probably not as bad as you think.” How can people who he was always told were so great be so bad? Emil refused to believe that – Tuuri was probably making it up. She’d always had a habit of making up stories.

“I doubt that.” Tuuri grumbled. “This is depressing, let’s change the topic. How are your lectures?”

Lalli silently sipped on his drink while watching the tense conversation in front of him. It was clear that Tuuri most certainly had much more to say on that particular subject, as did Emil, yet neither wanted to break the peace. If it could even be called that. If he knew exactly what they were talking about, he would feel better about the whole thing, but as it was he didn’t and he didn’t particularly want to ask, either.

He wished he’d listened to Onni and had stayed at home, learned his trade the other way. There were many, many legal loopholes he’d have to leap through but it was easier. It was easier than trying to understand the pair in front of him.

_But_ , that annoying little voice in the back of his head whispered, _but then you wouldn’t have met Emil again_.

He ignored it. It had no place here, not right now.

The sound of a chair scraping back pulled him out of his thoughts, and he watched as Emil stood up.

“I’d better head back. I’ll let you two catch up.”

Lalli felt his heart sink. He hadn’t managed to say anything! Damn it!

Well, he supposed, he _did_ share a room with him now. It wouldn’t be hard to speak another time. Instead, he directed his ire towards his cousin.

“What did you say this time?” he asked once Emil had left, the bell by the door tinkling behind him.

“I didn’t say anything.” Tuuri snapped.

“He seemed upset.”

“He’s just stubborn and doesn’t believe that daddy was lying to him.” She snorted into her mug. “He hasn’t changed a bit.”

Lalli supposed that he hadn’t.

* * *

 

His father had joined them.

His uncle had joined them.

His grandfather had joined them, too.

It was his turn.

Emil straightened his tie and adjusted his jacket as he strode down to the room indicated on the slip of paper tucked neatly into his pocket. The council was renown for being made of the best of the best, the cream of the crop if you will. And it was strictly _invite only._ He had grown up on stories about it; it’s grandeur, it’s secrecy, the elaborate parties and get togethers. Most of the men he had met as a child, all of his fathers close friends and confidants, had been members of this council. And now, finally, it was his turn.

Emil knocked thrice on the doors and pushed them open. Four others were lounging around inside, all turning to face him as he entered.

"Ah, Västerström! So glad you could make it." A tall, red haired man said as he jumped up from where he was lounged on a plump leather sofa. "I am Grimmson, the sender of the invite. It is truly a pleasure to meet you." He held his hand out towards him, his face pulled into a smile.

Emil could tell it was forced.

"The pleasures all mine." He replied, firmly shaking his hand. "To join such an... Esteemed council."

"Oh, dear friend, this is just the beginning." Grimmson closed the door behind him, effectively blocking the only exit. "Larsen, introductions please."

A man who looked stunningly similar to Emil perked up, the book they were reading discarded on the table. "Of course. My name is Larson," they gestured to themselves, eyes twinkling. "I'm the Dane. This is Erkko, our Finn," he gestured to a man who looked suspiciously like Snape would have in his younger days, his thin inky black hair pulled into a loose braid. Erkko didn't bother to look up from his laptop, simply grunting in response. "He's never been much for conversation, don't worry any. And this is Kristiansen, our Norwegian."

Kristiansen perked up, jumping to his feet to shake Emil's hand enthusiastically. "It's a pleasure to meet you." He said in Norwegian. Emil grinned back.

"The pleasure's all mine." He replied in Swedish.

"Enough brown nosing, Kristiansen, you can bang him later." Larsen scolded. He took Emil by the arm and turned him back towards the door, where Grimmson was still standing. "You've already been introduced to Grimmson. He's our Icelander, and our leader."

"I welcome you to my humble abode." Grimmson smiled at him, gesturing to the room at whole. "Do you wish to join us?"

He heard his fathers voice whispering in his ear.

_"Say yes, boy!"_

"Yes. I do."

Grimmson clapped his hands together. "Marvellous! Well we shall start your initiation right away, dear boy."

"Initiation?" Emil asked. Nobody had mentioned that to him!

"Yes, the initiation. We don't let just anyone in, Västerström. You have to prove your mettle."

That was understandable.

Erkko finally looked up now, closing his laptop with a crisp snap. He tucked it away into a cabinet and locked the door. Emil found himself wondering just why he'd gone through the trouble to do that. Surely the initiation wasn't anything too extravagant?

"Give me your wallet." Grimmson demanded, holding his hand out towards him. Emil startled.

"My- why?"

"I need it."

Emil slipped it out of his back pocket and cautiously placed it into his waiting palm. Why would he..?

Grimmson opened it and began riffling through it, his face falling and falling until he found what he was after. A red note was extracted - £50 sterling.

"What-?!"

"This," he said, sticking it into his back pocket, "is for later. Now, Emil, we drink."

They sat around a circular table. Grimmson sat in the biggest, plushest seat. Kristiansen took the seat to his right, and Erkko the left. Larson sat next to Kristiansen, leaving Emil to sit next to Erkko and almost directly opposite Grimmson.

Grimmson took out a packet of cigarettes and handed one to every single member, Emil included.

"Light up our guest first." He instructed. Erkko lifted a gold plated lighter, carefully cradling the flame as he lit the end of Emil's cigarette.

"Serve him a drink."

Larson stood and collected five glasses and a bottle of something Emil couldn't quite identify. He poured a measure into a glass, scooped in some ice, and slid it over to Emil.

Within seconds everyone had a lit cigarette and a drink in their hand. "A toast!" Grimmson announced, thrusting his glass upwards. "To Västerström!"

This was followed by a loud chorus of his name, the other four downing their drinks and aggressively throwing their glasses to the floor, showering them in glass. Emil didn't hesitate to do the same a fraction of a second later, much to the delight of everyone else present in the room.

"Now we've got that shit out of the way," Grimmson puffed his cigarette, "more drinks. We have some bollinger still, yes?"

Emil had never seen so _much_ in his _life_. The side of the table that was unoccupied was taken over by bottle upon bottle of bollinger. Emil wondered if they thought that they were going to be getting through all of it.

From the look in their eyes, they most certainly did.

"This is just a little taste of what life with us will be like, Västerström." Grimmson gestured to the bottles. "A life in the lap of luxury. Are you prepared for this, pretty Swede?"

He most certainly was.

"I was born for this." He snootily replied, blowing smoke into rings as he leaned back in his chair. Grimmson found this to be most amusing if his guffaw was anything to go by.

"Oh, my boy, you are quickly becoming my favourite!"

One bottle went down in a blink.

Then two.

Then three.

By this point, their ties had been lost and their card game long forgotten. When the third bottle ran dry, Grimmson clapped his hands together.

"Fancy a little outing, boys?"

They all loudly cheered, even Erkko. They all filed outside and stumbled towards a car. Emil didn't know who it belonged to, nor did he care, as they all climbed on in.

"Should we be driving?" He asked, leaning forwards from the backseat.

"Who cares?" Larson replied from his seat in the front. "They can't touch us."

Safe in that knowledge, Emil settled into the backseat and tried to not worry too much about hitting Lalli on his nightly run-

Oh, shit! _Lalli_! He- he had promised-!

He gnawed his lip at the thought of his roommate. He had promised to help him unpack, and here he was, drunkenly sat in a car with a driver equally as drunk driving.

He fumbled for his phone, grimacing at all the missed messages. He unlocked his phone using his thumbprint and quickly read through them all.

_I'm so sorry,_ he began, thumb going as quick as it could, _the council stuff is going on for longer than expected._

His phone buzzed a moment later in reply.

_Tuuri helped me. See you later_

He felt his heart sink. Damn it!

_Are you out running right now?_ he asked. _I need to know._

_I just got back in_

_Thank fuck_

_Why?_

_The fools are drink driving_

_Odd for you to worry_

_I'd rather you didn't die_

Emil shoved his phone back into his pocket. He didn't want to have to explain to him why he cared if his roommate was killed by the car he was currently sat in!

The car suddenly stopped, all passengers flying forwards and grabbing onto the nearest thing to stop themselves from being propelled through the windscreen.

"There!" Grimmson pointed down an alleyway, were Emil could see the edges of some cardboard poking out into the pool of light below a streetlamp.

They all got out of the car, not bothering to lock it as they walked the few meters to the alleyway. Emil could smell them before he saw them - a homeless person curled up on cardboard, the stench of dirt, sweat and urine almost offensive.

Grimmson took Emil's note from his pocket and handed it to him along with a plastic lighter.

"I trust I don't need to tell you what to do."

Emil took both, looking at them for a second before nodding and walking into the alleyway.

The four watched as Emil brandished the note, ensuring that the other was watching before he ignited it. That alone would have been enough - should have been enough; it was enough - but Emil wasn't done. He kept it just out of reach the entire time it burned, finally dropping the last smouldering ember into their aluminium can filled with spare change. Emil wasn't done yet. He reached into his back pocket and took out his wallet, removing another note before slipping it back in again.

"Oh, my god, he's a _sadist!_ " Larson laughed behind his hands. Erkko sagely nodded, sharp eyes watching Emil carefully.

"No," Kristiansen murmured, "he's an arsonist."

"This gives me an idea." Grimmson nodded. "He needs to burn something."

They couldn't talk about it anymore though, as Emil was coming back towards them. He pushed the lighter into Grimmsons hand, the sound of soft sobs echoing behind him.

"What's next?"

Grimmson grinned down at him. "We return home."

They all piled back into the car, the drive home seeming to be faster than the drive out, although Emil suspected that they had driven through some gardens in order to manage it.

They stumbled back into the room again, quickly helping themselves to more alcohol before they continued. The buzz was beginning to wear off. Emil was handed another cigarette, which he accepted gratefully.

"Usually we have a pig for this." Kristiansen said, swaggering over to the cupboard while twirling the key on his fingers, "But we just couldn't seem to find one good for our causes. So we got you something a little more alive instead."

He unlocked the cupboard, and a girl fell out.

Her socks were scuffed and had fallen below her knees, her ankles bound together. Her wrists were tied behind her back, her mouth gagged with a length of fabric. Despite how her skirt had ridden up and was exposing her underwear, and how her chest was thrown outwards in a way that accentuated all her curves, Emil couldn't find a single ounce of attraction nor desire towards her.

He licked his lips and looked up at Kristiansen.

"I'm dreadfully sorry, but I'd rather the pig." He paused for a moment. "I'm gay."

The girls whimper was drowned out by the laughter of the men around her. Emil didn't like the fearful look on her face, nor how her makeup was smudged by tears.

"Oh, Emil, my boy," Grimmson clapped him on the back, "that is an amazing thing. Come now, we can't let you miss out on this. We'll find something for you." He took a long swig from his glass. "Don't you worry any, we shan't be letting this go to waste."

Emil wasn't quite sure what he meant by that. Grimmson squeezed his shoulder before letting go. "We'll continue tomorrow, while we... Enjoy ourselves here. I'll be in touch, Västerström."

"I'll see you then, Grimmson."

Emil drained his glass and placed it on the nearest table before turning to leave. Just as he was about to open the door, he glanced behind him and back to the girl. She was sat up now, Erkko knelt behind her. He couldn’t hear what he saw saying, but she looked terrified. She gave Emil a pleading look, but all he could do was look away and walk out.


End file.
